


Of All the Bars

by blackhorseandthecherrytree



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 12:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackhorseandthecherrytree/pseuds/blackhorseandthecherrytree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1940s WWII AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of All the Bars

Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel, and I don't have any rights to any of their associated works.

* * *

Eleven languages. An unequalled mastery of deception, sabotage, and infiltration. He even got himself to Europe’s battlefront under an assumed identity for six months, and what happened? Tarrant still managed to find him, drag him out of a perfectly good cover, and badger him into joining his squad.  
  
He still wasn’t sure how that’d happened. Something to do with his brother’s natural jocularity and utterly abysmal grasp of subtlety, no doubt. Luke growled into his beer.  
  
One of his brother’s squadmates, the one he hadn’t gotten a good look at yet, sat down beside him. “Make mine a double,” he rasped to the barmaid.  
  
“I have no need of company,” Luke said tiredly. “As you are one of my brother’s friends, you may no doubt surmise that I am, in fact, in a distinct lack of need for company. It’s not as if you’ve destroyed months of perfectly good work.”  
  
“That is rather too bad,” the man said. “But we needed you more.”  
  
Luke snapped his head up. The soldier was smiling, and his face was a familiar one. “Elisabeth?”  
  
“It’s been a long time since you gave me a haircut, Luke Woodson.” She lowered her voice as the barmaid approached, and drank her beer as proudly as any other serviceman. “I believe I did a better job than you did, if it is somewhat shorter. Who knows? Perhaps this time it’ll grow back red.”   
  
He tapped the fingers of his left hand against the beer bottle, thinking. “Dr. Leighton. He passed you.”  
  
She nodded with a grin. “He always said I was as much a ruffian as any of you boys.”  
  
He remembers her face before he left - her desperation to do something, her determination to fight, eyes burning-bright and fierce. She seems happier now, or as happy as anyone can be amidst bombs and Germans.  
  
Her hand clutches his under the table.  
  
“Are you why my brother was so insistent on bringing me with you?”  
  
Her eyes flick to another table, and he knows that she’s spotted their superior. “I believed he missed you very much,” she says quietly, her voice controlled. “I believed he loves you.” Her eyes, hard like diamonds, dark with almost-tears. He can’t look away. “Very much.”   
  
He looked away, to gather himself. It would not do to get over-emotional. “I suppose the Woodson brothers should always stick together.”  
  
Her smile is radiant.   
  
-  
  
He isn’t sure how he found himself kissing Elisabeth behind the bar that night, but he remembers how they made their way to the hotel very well, and what came after. He doesn’t worry about what eyes will see. He’s been thought effeminate before. Besides, there’s a war on, and they need all the hands they can get.


End file.
